Unusual Circumstances
by Kilrez
Summary: Jack hasn't ever been normal. Lucky for him he's just a little bit cleverer than the people that seem to be following him around.
1. Chapter 1

**Unusual Circumstances**

After seasons of rampant curiosity about the circumstances of Jack's childhood, they threw us a rather dull bone. All that time, and a mother and father on a slightly rural looking peninsula plus a little bit of tragedy...

I ignored that all completely. That is to say, wrote this well before the episodes that mention Gray. Although, if you just pretend Jack's remaining parent moved to a city after the invasion, and then promptly died, leaving a young, orphaned Jack...

This is his story.

* * *

'Agent Gibbs, police. We need some information.'

The young boy squinted up at the small square of paper that was being thrust out for him to read, then raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 'Your badge is a plain bit of paper,' he told the policeman helpfully.

'Agent Gibbs' as he had introduced himself, stared down at the gap-toothed child, his face becoming, if possible, even blanker. Slowly he closed the wallet that held the paper and tucked it into his pocket. 'Good lad,' he said slowly.

Then, as adults seemed to do, the dark-haired agent momentarily dismissed the boy from his mental framework. Craning over his shoulder, he yelled to his companion who was zipping up a body bag. Looking put out, the other man stood and walked over, taking off a pair of latex gloves.

'What is it, agent?' he asked grumpily.

'Kid here just told me my badge was blank,' agent Gibbs informed his partner significantly.

'Did he just?' The expression of boredom was suddenly replaced by shrewd interest.

The boy had lived a long time on the streets. He had very finely honed instincts. Smiling disarmingly to show where he had lost a tooth only yesterday, he shifted his weight onto the balls of his toes.

'That's a very clever trick there, lad,' said the first agent, looming over him and trying to sound paternal and reassuring. Mostly he just sounded patronising.

'Thank you, sir,' replied the boy, playing up the wide-eyed innocence for all it was worth. 'Is that lady over there meant to be doing that to your body?'

Both agents looked simultaneously. The boy turned and sprinted. There were two shouts behind him, by which time he'd already ducked down a side-alley, weaving at speed past dumpsters and beggars. There were no sounds of pursuit, but he didn't stop until he'd made it to the rooftops via a handy fire-escape, coupled with a quick scramble up some rotting brick-work. He took shelter among the multiple chimneys and other architecture, panting only slightly and listening hard.

No one that looked like that ever meant any good, no matter how kindly they spoke. Especially if they wore a suit and were investigating dead bodies. People died all the time in this neighbourhood, usually of natural causes, like steel poisoning to the kidneys. It never bothered the law enforcement. That was the natural order of things. Whoever those men had been, they were well worth avoiding.

* * *

_Two years later…_

Face smeared with dirt to help camouflage him among the shadows, the young boy watched the scene with sharp eyes. 90 percent of a successful crime was picking your mark.

Well hidden in the alcove, the passerby on the street paid him no notice. Just the way he liked it. Better to be seen and not heard, and best to be neither. As alert as he was, the tingle down the back of his neck did not go unnoticed. He narrowed his eyes, scanning for the source of the buzz he'd just felt.

There they were, distinctly out of place in the atmosphere of the dingy street. It was not unheard of for big business suits to pass through here, but these two seemed all wrong. They _felt_ wrong too. The boy couldn't put words to it. There was just something about them that suggested they were out of place. Not fitting in. Not where they should be. Just… _wrongness._

He watched carefully until they had passed, then waited several more minutes, until the tingling had faded. Then, being somewhat pragmatic of nature, he picked a mark and sauntered forwards. 'Tuppence ta watch'cher ve''cl guv'nor?'

* * *

_Another few years…_

The youth cracked all his knuckles, before stretching his lanky limbs. Judging by this first spurt of growth, he was going to be quite big. He looked forwards to it. It would be much easier to liberate people from their property when he didn't have to worry about people liberating his from him. Right now, however, he looked like he was constructed entire of dirty knees and scraped elbows, topped off by messy brown hair. And he was hungry.

The spaceport was _busy_. He'd never seen so many off-worlders before. Tourists and business people, rich and poor, human and otherwise. Targets.

His nostrils flared, and he scampered forwards, weaving through the crowds, occasionally picking a wallet when it was too easy to resist. He skirted his way around the launching pad, busily assessing every hiding point, access method, and escape route. It was the work of long weeks, but he now knew the massive spaceport like the rooftops of the city it nestled in.

Ducking out of the crowd of people, he sought a small alcove that was usually used for storing cleaning equipment. He checked the small collection of coins in his palm, counting through them. It was enough for a serving of plain rice.

Moving with purpose, he headed for the row of vendors near the departure gates. Their cries almost masked the bleep of the scanners that let people though onto the landing pad.

The boy did a quick mental appraisal of which vendor would give him the most rice for his money, and joined the queue.

Gradually, the hairs on the end of his neck stood up, and he scanned the surroundings, trying to appear casual. At once he realized it was coming from the man behind him in the line.

'Hello there, son. Fine morning, isn't it?'

'Indeed,' replied the boy with a charming smile. It was reflexive. Internally, he was a little bit stunned, fervently trying to work out why this man seemed to stick out so oddly from the thousands of other people around him. This one wasn't even in the give-away suit. He wore a garish Hawaiian shirt and a friendly expression.

'You off to somewhere exciting then?' asked the stranger, and the boy realised he'd been staring too long.

'No, not me sir. Just coming to have a look at the ships,' the boy told him. He gave a wistful little smile, giving the lie the perfect finish. People imposed characters on those they met. He'd just become the innocent little child with a bit of a fancy for space-ships, like other children watched trains or collected coins.

The man nodded understandingly, and then it was the boy's turn to order his food. He grabbed it as quick as he could and melted into the crowd. As soon as he was safe, he turned and took himself to a place where he could observe the Hawaiian-shirted man. To the boy's eyes, he stood out like a wolf amongst sheep. He followed the man's progress until he was lost to sight through the departure gate

The boy's eyes narrowed, and he was thoughtful as he began to scoop rice into his mouth.

* * *

_3 months after that…_

Cramped in his hiding space, the boy desperately fought down the urge to move and relieve his aching muscles. There was someone just walking past.

'Cargo's all secure cap'n,' resounded the deep voice, too close for comfort.

'No bloody stowaways this time, Brandin? Security at that port's terrible.'

'No, sir,' replied the voice, from right next to the boy's hiding place. He held his breath. Trust his luck to find the one ship where the captain was naturally cautious. It gave the boy respect for the skipper, but it made his life a hell of a lot tougher. He'd been moving every few minutes to avoid the burly worker who was checking every nook and cranny in the giant cargo bay.

There had been silence outside his hiding place for several minutes, so the boy allowed himself a small stretch, muffling a groan of relief as his back cracked. There was a rustle of cloth from mere inches away. His heart froze in his chest, then began to hammer loudly. His palms immediately prickled with sweat, and his stomach clenched in fear.

He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the worker to just walk away. No such luck. There was a click, and a sudden flood of light onto him. The boy nearly squealed in terror.

He immediately clenched down on the reflex, and tried to calm himself, ready to talk his way out of it. His silver tongue was what had made him the best sneak thief in all of the slums. But instead of an angry cry, the large, bearded face that was revealed just smiled slightly. The boy watched wide eyed as Brandin winked, then carefully replaced the cover.

The boy couldn't help his rapid breathing as he tried to work out what they hell had just happened. The hairs on the back of his neck slowly settled down, and the tingling in his stomach died as footsteps moved away.

* * *

TBC with a second part. One that possibly causes the universe to rip in half, but then again possibly doesn't


	2. Chapter 2

**Unusual Circumstances- Part 2**

In which the interesting stuff happens...

* * *

_A year and a half on…_

'Yeehaw!' the young teenager crowed, exaggerating the Texan accent. The controls seemed almost fluid under his hands, and the glider became part of him, mere extensions of his arms.

There was no one to hear him in the tiny cabin, but that didn't stop his whoops of glee as he manoeuvred easily between the towering buildings, adding superfluous aerial acrobatics when the mood took him.

He flicked on button on the comms, and grinned fiercely as the connection was made. 'Wassup, Davey-boy?' came the cheerful hail through the crackling speakers.

'Why didn't I have one of these when I wanted to get across town as a kid?' the boy demanded jokingly. He looped into an easy spiral, thrilled by the g-force as he accelerated out of it.

'Gravest apologies my boy. Hope you enjoy it now.'

'Oh I will, Jazz. Thanks.'

'See you in the next life Davey,' came the reply, before the connection was cut.

The young teenager laughed for the sheer joy of it and sped onwards, long since having left the cops behind. If people didn't want young ruffians stealing their expensive toys, then they shouldn't leave them out for all the world to see. Besides, anyone that could afford one of these could certainly afford two. All he'd needed was a bit of a boost from his accomplice, and in return for a few whispers of information, this beauty was all his.

Taking it swiftly back to the hiding place he'd already arranged for it, the youth settled it down and popped the cabin open. He was moving up in the world. Who else born where he was, had been to no less than eleven different planets? Yeah, he was good. And he'd go further by the time he was done.

Strutting just a little bit as he emerged from the hiding place, he quickly checked for any witnesses. All clear. Excellent. Time to meet up with a few friends. He was beginning to realise there was more to life than thievery. They spoke of things like morals, and honour, and bravery, with words that rang like golden bells. He had skills, and he wanted in. They were offering more than just a chance to make the world a better place. They were offering validation. Purpose.

The boy sidled into the smoky bar, and nodded to the barkeep as he pushed through the curtains into the backroom.

'Ah, Davey, good of you to join us. Did you get the glider?' The speaker was attempting to cultivate a thin, stylish moustache. It looked frankly ridiculous, but his eyes burned with honest passion, and the boy smiled at him and nodded.

'Excellent. We'll give those bloody fat-cats a seeing to. Then they'll see about women going missing on the streets.'

There was a general assent from around the table. The boy grinned and pulled up a seat beside his co-conspirators, none of them more than twice his age, with him by far the smallest.

They were expanding on their glorious plans when he felt that now-familiar tingle run down his spine. Frowning a little, he stood wordlessly and moved over to the curtain over the doorway.

'Something up, Davey?' asked the leader.

'No, nothing,' he said distractedly, carefully twitching the curtain aside just enough so he could see the rest of the bar. A tall thin man in a scruffy suit nodded and raised a glass to him. The boy let the curtain fall back, and chewed on his lip as he rejoined the table.

* * *

_Over the next year…_

The boy's eyes were starting to open in whole new ways. Gradually, people were becoming more than just targets or threats. He was discovering that they listened to him, liked him, helped him. He was discovering that there were many fun things you could do with all sorts of people. He was discovering that he was a little different to most.

He seemed to be able to think quicker for starters. And he was, for some reason, the person that everyone else looked to in a bad situation. It didn't matter that he was usually the youngest in the group. He seemed much older. And who else had done what he'd done? Been off-world, seen the stars, robbed the rich and helped the downtrodden? Age didn't matter. Experience mattered. And most importantly, charm mattered.

The boy grinned his brilliant white grin and winked at the shop keeper.

'What can I do for you, young Samson?' the old lady asked.

'Got any grenades, Ducky?'

'Now what would a nice boy like you be wanting grenades for then?' she asked him sternly, but she was smiling and reaching for a hidden compartment in her display. The boy grinned wider, not answering. Yes indeed- he was discovering that people would move heaven and earth if you could just make them believe that you were worth it.

He left the tiny corner shop with some very useful things concealed about his person. It was icily cold on the western side of this continent, and grenades hid well in a thick jacket. Plans were important. And he had important plans. He was learning so much. Life was about to open up to him. Whether or not it wanted to.

Head into the wind as he sidled down the street, keeping to the shadows, he pretended to ignore the crumpled old man watching him from a doorway. It never did any good to acknowledge them. He'd sort that out soon enough.

* * *

_Out of time altogether…_

'This boy's something special, commander. He can do things instinctively that take _years _of training.'

'Such as?' The voice of the commander was dry, her pale blue eyes piercing. She was made no less fearsome by her steel-grey hair. This woman missed nothing.

Agent Gibbs swallowed and took a deep breath to begin recounting their surveillance of an unnamed child. 'We first spotted him when he saw right through the psychic paper.'

'I've seen you use the psychic paper, Gibbs. You're hardly an expert.'

Gibbs blinked once in acknowledgement, but was not discouraged. 'There's more, commander. We checked a few times along his early timeline. Every single time one of our agents has gone to do surveillance on him, they've reported the same thing. He's staring at them. In crowds, or partially hidden, he'll pick them out and just observe.'

This seemed to give the commander some thought. 'Indeed? How interesting. What's he doing in his first two decades?'

'Anything you care to name, mostly. He stowed-away on his first ship when he was eleven. He's been shifting planets at will since then. Started off life as an orphan surviving by petty thievery. Seemed to be spending his adolescence learning to fly every bit of technology he can get his hands on… and he's bloody good too. Did a little bit of freedom fighting on the side, but he's got sense. He's not into taking the lost causes. And he never gets invested enough to be in trouble if things go sideways.'

'You sound like you admire him, Gibbs,' the commander commented dryly.

Gibbs gave a one-shouldered shrug. 'Maybe I do, a little. He's tough, smart, resourceful, charming, and driven. If we don't take him in, I suspect we'd have to assassinate him.'

'That bad? Well then, you've convinced me. Do a few more surveillance runs, then work out the best time to pick him up.'

'Yes, commander.'

She nodded. 'Dismissed.'

Gibbs left the office torn between satisfaction and nervousness. He knew the boy would make an exceptional time agent. It just made him bloody nervous the way those blue eyes of his seemed to see into your soul whenever you stopped by to check on the child.

* * *

_Now._

The Doctor strode cheerfully into the small room, and was heading towards the balcony before he even realised there was a gun trained on him. 'Hello,' he said brightly to the lanky youth who was scanning him up and down with shrewd eyes.

'You feel different to the others,' the teenager told him, frowning slightly. His gun aim seemed far too professional for his age. Adding to that, he was unusually calm for a young male holding a gun. His manner seemed almost calculated.

'Others?' asked the Doctor, mildly confused.

Jack choose that time to wander in, his inane comment dying on his lips as he saw the situation. The youth's eye's widened appreciably. It took Jack a moment, but when the penny dropped so did his jaw.

'Whoa,' said the youth with the gun, his aim still steady. 'So that explains it.'

The Doctor looked between the two of them a couple of times. 'Ah,' he said finally. 'Jack? Failure to mention you're going to cross your own path will get you thrown out the airlock.'

'I've been a lot of places Doc. I'd completely forgotten about Waldon.'

'Hmm.' The Doctor was dubious but he let it drop. 'Well then… hello young Jack.'

'Hi,' said the boy with eyes that were slightly narrowed in amusement.

'Er, would you mind terribly not training that gun on me quite so solidly?' suggested the Doctor.

'Yes,' replied the teenager easily, not shifting his aim in the slightest. He seemed very relaxed, and very, very sure of himself.

'Never take your gun off someone until you've got another hold at least as strong, Doctor,' Jack told him quietly, amused.

The Doctor turned to Jack and raised an eyebrow. Jack shrugged. 'Just trying to help.'

'I suppose you'd know what you're thinking.'

'I'd say he does. And I'd have to say… this is a little bit unexpected. I do think I've cornered the wrong set of time-travellers.'

'Wait…' started the Doctor, alarmed. 'There's another set of time-travellers?'

'The Agency stalked me from the age of eight,' Jack informed him helpfully.

'And you knew they were time-travellers? Did they tell you?' The Doctor's questions were aimed at both of the other men in the room. It was the younger one that answered.

'They feel wrong, like I said. I can spot them from a mile off. I was looking forwards to asking them some questions, but you seem to have been the causes of the ripples this time.'

'Ripples,' repeated the Doctor, turning to the older Jack. 'You can feel time ripples?'

'Sort of,' squirmed Jack uncomfortably. 'Look, Doc… and you too kid- it doesn't pay to go advertising. Makes people uncomfortable. _Especially the people that have been watching you._ Tell them their clothes and manner seemed a little off. That's important.'

'Jack! Stop changing history.'

Jack shook his head, eyes dark. 'It's not changing anything. That's what I said, when they picked me up. I can just tell that it's important that I tell him though.'

The boy was watching them with shrewd eyes, and the Doctor was a little unnerved by the way he didn't start asking questions about time-loops and paradoxes. That very silence indicated an unnatural intuitive understanding of the time flow. Something that no human should have.

'I'm almost tempted to go back and look at your birth Jack Harkness. I had no idea you were so… unusual. Other than the obvious.'

'The obvious? What's wrong with me?' asked the teenager laconically. He was amused by the Doctor's flustered manner.

'Nothing, yet. He was talking about me,' clarified Jack.

The youth suddenly narrowed his eyes, examining Jack like he was trying to see his bare soul. 'How old are you?' he asked abruptly.

Jack let out a low chuckle, quirking an eyebrow at the Doctor.

'Jack,' ground out the Doctor warningly. 'You tell him and it's reapers for sure. And don't even get me started on how impossible it is that a human could sense time.'

'Relax, Doc. The thought of causing a paradox actually causes me physical pain. Always has. I know I can trust myself. And 213, kid.'

'I'm not a kid,' replied the boy, not blinking an eye.

'I know. But you don't exactly have a name.'

'Can I have Jack?'

'Not yet.'

'I guess I've got plenty of time,' said the youth with an ironic smile. 'It is very tempting to ask how I'm going to come to be hanging out with a time-travelling alien in my second century though.'

'Patience is a virtue,' replied Jack with a grin. The Doctor was just staring at him, and if anything; his expression could have been described as gobsmacked. It was quite enjoyable.

'Parables are not a virtue,' shot back the youth, then sighed and clicked the safety on. He lowered the gun, but didn't let it down, and there was a sort of relaxed wariness to his stance that suggested he would still find it remarkably easy to pump anyone that moved full of lead. 'I guess I'll see you later then, Doctor.' It was a clear dismissal.

The Doctor blinked, amused. 'You heard him. Come on, Jack.'

Jack grinned dopily and trailed out to the balcony after the Doctor. It was a little bit bizarre. It was him who'd just said that, in a way. Of course the him sitting calmly on a chair was young and dumb, and it was popular wisdom that no one got along with their younger selves because kids won't take advice, and adults are stuffy and know nothing.

When the Doctor and old Jack were done scaling the vines up the side of the building and stopping the spring-loaded missile launcher on the roof, they tracked back down the way they'd come in. The youth was gone.

'Huh,' said Jack, non-plussed. The Doctor quirked an inquiring eyebrow, so Jack elaborated. 'It makes sense now- why I didn't remember Waldon or that little conversation. The Time Agency used a mind-blanker when they pulled me in.'

The Doctor's face cleared as understanding dawned, and he seemed to relax a little. Whatever Jack said, he didn't trust a younger version of the man running about the universe knowing he was going to live to an uncommonly old age. Indeed, it appeared Jack had told himself just the right amount of information. Giving a cheery grin, the Doctor led the way back to the Tardis. Funny how these things worked out.

_fin_

* * *

Why is it that in every single fic I write where people cross their time lines, I always manage to throw some reason for later amnesia in there? It's just, could you imagine all the hideous paradoxes (and plotholes) that spring into place otherwise? They cause me physical pain. oo

* * *


End file.
